Perfect Innocence
by DreamShadows
Summary: Sam was the one to go after the djinn alone, and while under its control, he finds that his dreams may not be what he wants after all. Limp!Sam and Protective!Dean... R
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys!! So my other idea kind of went down the drain, and then my keyboard decided to die, and send me into a frenzy… Hey, at least I wasn't yelling at this time, right?

But then I went on Youtube, and there was this awesome video… The link of which is posted on my Profile… And I asked the maker if I could do a fanfic about it- I was ecstatic when they agreed…

I really have to thank **Faye Dartmouth** for agreeing to beta this, it's a great help! It would be a lot worse off without her help. And though she assures me it's not confusing and that I have a good start, I have to say that it's a good deal in part to her help. If there are any mistakes, they're my fault for my little fixes after she sent the chapter back.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or even the complete plot for this story. Song is Innocence by Avril Lavigne.

So without further babble, here's the fic… Enjoy!!

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'_Waking up to see that everything is okay,  
The first time in my life and now it's so great,  
Slowing down, I look around and I am so amazed,  
I think about the little things that make life great,  
I wouldn't change a thing about it,  
This is the best feeling.'  
_

Not for the first time since he had walked into the abandoned warehouse, Sam thought it might have been a better idea to wait for Dean.

The uneasy feelings he was getting from the warehouse were making his stomach turn, and since Jessica, he had learned to trust his feelings. Then again with his recent possession and week from hell, he hadn't trusted himself as much as he used to, no matter how much Dean tried to convince him to.

His brother hadn't been too happy with his idea to go it alone either, and Sam wondered if maybe he should have listened to both of their instincts.

_Too late now, I'm already here._

When he had come upon the warehouse on his way back from researching in the library, he had thought it would be worth checking out, and had called Dean to let him know he would be running a few minutes late. _  
_

It wasn't that Sam had a death wish, or that he just didn't care to listen to Dean's orders; Sam just didn't want his brother to think he needed to do everything when it came to hunts. His brother had always helped people when they needed it, and he had been there for Sam all his life, and Sam just wanted to give Dean a little bit back.

Since the whole angel fiasco, and Sam's own drunken stupor; the youngest Winchester hadn't felt very useful either, and he figured going after the djinn alone might have been his own way to throw his hat back in the proverbial "hunting" ring.

He had thought it would just be a routine look around to make sure the djinn wasn't hiding right in plain sight. Then he had seen the dropped book bag, and the drag marks that had been leading away from the bag, and he had been pretty sure that maybe he was a little too 'right on' than he wanted.

Shrugging a hand through his hair, Sam scrunched it in his fist for a moment, before resuming his search for the djinn. He wasn't completely sure he had the right place, but he couldn't leave without thoroughly searching it, it just wasn't in his nature. It was also morally ingrained that if someone _was_ in trouble, Sam wasn't just going to leave them there to fend for themselves.

His eyes swept over the crates stacked against the wall hall, not expecting, but ready for something if it were to jump out at him. He hadn't heard much about djinn's, but he figured they had to be sneaky creatures, for so many to fall for their tricks, and Sam didn't want to be one of those caught off guard.

He held his knife out in front of him in caution as he wandered deeper into the abandoned building, hoping it would be enough to take care of the monster. He wasn't a big believer in under stocking his weapons though, and a 9mm tucked into the back of his jeans, along with a flask of holy water in the inside jacket of his coat proved that fact.

Hearing a whimper coming from somewhere ahead of him, Sam tensed and held the knife tighter, his eyes continuously sweeping the area in front of him as he made his way toward the fear filled sound.

He cautiously pushed a slightly ajar door, opening it wide enough for him to sneak through, thanking whatever was holy that it hadn't creaked. Taking a deep breath, Sam flattened himself against the wall. Knife held to his side in constant vigilance, Sam eased himself through the opening.

The sight of the room made him want to vomit.

Bodies in various states of decay hung from chains tossed over the support beams. Most were dead or nearly so, and the smell was overwhelming in its intensity. Rotting flesh, urine, and feces made up the combined odor in the room, and Sam coughed, drawing his Carhartt covered wrist to cover his mouth and nose.

His eyes watered as he took in the room, keeping close to the wall as he searched for sign of the djinn. Another whimper made its way through a young girl's parted lips and Sam turned, intent to help the girl.

He made it no more than three steps before a creature, looking disturbingly like a man covered in tattoos, grabbed him. Sam was turned and slammed into wooden supports, hard enough for the air to leave his lungs and his head to crack against the wood.

His vision blackened as a hand gripped his wrist, and the other flexed its way around his neck. Sam gasped as the hand tightened harshly, squeezing what little air was left from him.

Instinctively, he grabbed the hand around his throat with his free hand, and tugged, wheezing as the djinn only tightened its hold. He lashed out with a knee, slamming it as hard as he could into the thing's stomach.

The hold around his wrist and neck broke, and the creature doubled over. Sam wasted no time in lunging for the djinn, his arm swinging the knife towards its side. He was caught mid-lunge, and thrown toward the stairs. Landing heavily on his side, his grip on the knife opened, and the weapon slid across the floor, out of reach and useless.

His head spinning, and pain streaking through his side, Sam turned and started to raise himself on his elbows, his head hanging limply between his arms. Before he had a chance to clear his head, a strong arm gripped him by the back of the neck and threw him at the stairs he had previously landed at the bottom of.

Once again his breath left him, and he coughed. Before he could move, the djinn was straddling his waist, a hand once more gripped his throat and another one crackling with what looked like blue electricity was lowering itself to his head.

_Oh god, I should have waited for Dean._ Panic gripped him, swirling around his mind and through his thoughts; his instincts screaming at him to get away from the creature towering over him. Fear trumped his flight instincts, and he wondered when he had decided to go against the teaching his father and Dean had beat into him all his life.

_Always make sure you have backup, it could save your butt on the simplest hunt._

Sam's free hand rose to clamp around the sparking appendage, and he struggled with all his might to keep the hand from his head. He didn't know exactly how djinn's granted wishes, and if he had his way, he never would.

The muscles in his arm bulged and strained, and an aching burn forced its way through his forearm the longer he fought off the creature, but Sam didn't care. All he cared about was keeping that hand from his head. To keep himself from becoming one of the victims hanging around him.

Thoughts swam their way into his head as the crackling energy got closer. Memories, thoughts, voices, feelings- they all forced their way into his consciousness as the creature above him struggled to make him surrender.

_His mother burning on the ceiling as his father yelled, and he watched with infant eyes.  
_

_Dean bundling him into his arms and running from the burning house that had once been their home.  
_

_Jess screaming…__**Burning!  
**_

_Dean pulling him from the apartment as he cried out for his girlfriend.  
_

The closer the hand pushed to his head, the more vivid the images became- the harder his memories beat at him.

Sweat ran from his forehead and Sam's fingers cramped as he held the hand bearing down on him, away. When his fingers spasmed, and the djinn slipped from his grasp, Sam knew he was in trouble. He knew there was nothing he could do to stop the monster from entering his mind. He only hoped that Dean would figure out something was wrong, and come for him, sooner rather than later.

White lances of pain seared their way through the side of his head as the djinn's hand fastened itself to the spot, and Sam's teeth ground down against each other in reaction. His eyes flew wide open, and he hissed through his clenched teeth as he felt the djinn's consciousness search through his own for remnants of his wishes, his _dreams_.

Maybe that was how it worked. It kept its victims occupied with what they thought was their wishes come true, while it sucked the life from them. It projected their deepest desires to them, while it drained them. It didn't grant wishes, it only made the victims think it did, while they slowly died.

As Sam's vision was darkening, and his conscious fading, he vaguely wondered what would happen when he woke. Where exactly he would wake, but as his would dissolved, all thoughts floated from his grasp, and the world fell away.

XXXXX

Sam woke with a gasp and shot up from the bed he had been lying on.

_Wait a minute…Bed?  
_

He had been lying on the stairs when the creature had gotten to him, not on a bed.

He looked around the room, trying to get a feel for where he was, but not recognizing anything in his surroundings. He had never been in a room that even remotely modeled this one, and as he studied his surroundings more, everything became even more confusing.

_Since when do I like baseball?_ He asked himself as he looked over the trophies lining the wall, and the pictures of his father, Dean, and himself in baseball uniforms.

The door opening tore him from his thoughts, and he looked over to see who it was. As he took in the sight of the blond standing before him in her Smurf pajamas, his breath caught and his eyes widened.

"Jess?"

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A/N: So what did yah'all think? I hope it lived up to expectations, but let me know if it didn't.

Take care and review often,

DS


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys!! So I got a new chapter out! Yay for me right?

I'm trying to tone down the author's notes just a little, so I'm going to thank Faye for her wonderful job of beta and let you guys go…

Happy reading!

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__

'This innocence is brilliant, I hope that it will stay  
This moment is perfect, please don't go away, I need you now  
And I'll hold on to it, don't you let it pass you by  
I found a place so safe, not a single tear  
The first time in my life and now it's so clear  
Feel calm I belong, I'm so happy here  
It's so strong and now I let myself be sincere  
I wouldn't change a thing about it  
This is the best feeling'

XXXXX

__

"Jess?"

His voice was raspy and hoarse, surprise and grief choking him. His stomach twisted, and his heart clenched as he looked into the face of the woman he had loved so much and lost too soon.

Sam felt his jaw drop, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he took in the beautiful blond before him. He had thought that he would never see her again, and if he did she would either be a ghost, or he would be dead- neither being a good situation.

"Well of course silly, who else would be walking into our bedroom at seven in the morning-- Jessica Alba?" Her lips quirked, and her eyebrow dragged itself skyward, an amused sheen glossing her blue eyes.

Sam's mind jerked from its stupor and he forced a smile, trying to appease her apprehension. "No one, I just had a weird dream, it confused me for a second there." He was lying through his teeth, and the thought that he would lie to her, the only woman he had ever loved, turned his stomach.

He had regretted lying to her the whole time at Stanford, and he was already starting again. With each new lie, the regret pulled at his heart.

Almost immediately, a line formed between her eyebrows, and her mouth curved down, as concern replaced confusion. "Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?" Her genuine words tore at his heart, and the worry he could see sparking in her eyes, had his own itching.

The look had been one she had often given him when they had lived together, and the familiarity sent a tinge of longing through him. He had missed that look and all the emotions it brought with it.

It had been so long since anyone had asked him if he wanted to talk, and hearing it from Jess after so long, brought back the longing he had to express himself that he had so well hidden since her death.

"Yeah," he choked, coughing and hoping she thought it was just morning roughness that made his voice catch. "Yeah, I'm okay, and it was just a dream, it's fading already." Seeing the lines fade from her face warmed his heart, and he fleetingly wondered how she could make him feel so many things with a simple smile.

"You sure?" she asked as she sat down beside him on the bed. Once again his eyes itched at the simple question, and he found himself nodding despite himself.

"Yeah, I'm sure." He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her brow, reaching his hand up to tangle his fingers in her hair. "_God_," he whispered to himself, _"what did I ever do to deserve you?" _He asked into her hair, breathing in the familiar sent of her peach shampoo._  
_

Jess pulled back and looked at him quizzically, her own hand coming up to cup his jaw gently. "That must've been some dream." Her eyes peered into his own imploringly, and Sam had to fight to keep himself from turning away, already feeling the love he had pushed down for so long, bloom right back to the surface.

"Yeah." His voice was lower than he intended, and he felt his throat stinging as he looked back into her cerulean eyes. They were so full of love and concern for him, and having been without her for so long, left him with a sense of lost peace.

Dean had always been there for him, but there was just something about the way Jess showed him that she cared that had always made his heart warm. It was different from anything else he had experienced through the years and he had learned to cherish that love from her in the two and a half years they had been together. It had been one of the things he had missed the most after the demon had taken her from him.

Beside them, the alarm went off, effectively breaking their moment, and Jess jerked from him, looking over to the flashing red numbers of the little black alarm clock. "Oh, you have to get ready for work!" she said looking back to him, her eyes wide as she stared at him.

Sam looked at the clock, and saw seven fifteen flashing back at him, mockingly. _Work?_ He wondered what exactly she meant when she said that. Where did he work? Before he had more than a moment to wonder on what she said, Jess stood and looked down at him.

"And before I forget, can you pick up Johnny from your mother's on the way home from the firm?" she asked.

_The firm? Well that answered one question. _

_Wait- Mom? She's alive? _His breath seemed to leave his lungs, and once again he could feel his jaw dropping. Then another thought niggled at him_, Johnny?  
_

Thinking that he was about to protest, Jess held up her hand and said, "Nuh-uh, I'm taking him to kindergarten this morning and taking him to your mom's after that. Now, I have a hair appointment this afternoon, and last time I had to cancel to pick him up." She looked him straight in the eye before adding, "He's your son too." Her tone brooked no argument and he nodded, feeling the remaining breath in his lungs leave as she smiled and turned to walk from the room.

_Son? I have a son?_

The thought seemed surreal, but she had said it, and Sam found himself making his way to the door and down the hall before he could stop to wonder just what he was going to do.

Seeing a door marked 'Johnny' in carefully cut construction paper and magic markers, he stopped in his tracks. Taking a deep breath to calm his fluttering heart, Sam closed his eyes and knocked lightly on the door. Hearing a muffled, "Come in," he opened his eyes and slowly turned the doorknob.

Pushing open the door, he found himself gazing into hazel eyes that matched his own, peering at him from a little boy's round face. Blond hair flopped around the boy's head, and a big grin lined the boy's- _Johnny's- _lips. "Morning, Daddy!" he said, beaming at his father from the rug where he sat, playing with toy cars.

"Hey, Sport!" he said, the endearment coming out of nowhere, but somehow feeling right.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he looked at the little boy, knowing instantly that he was _his_, his and Jess'… There was no way to deny it, with Sam's dimples and eyes, staring at him from a bone structure and hair that was clearly Jess'.

"You ready for school?" Sam asked, not knowing what else to say, having no experience with raising or even talking to little boys.

The little blond head nodded eagerly, "Do you like my costume daddy? For Halloween?" Johnny's voice was so excited, Sam couldn't bear to say no. As he looked over what his son, _his son_, was wearing, Sam found himself smiling. Johnny wore a blue suit, complete with cape, mask, and Superman insignia.

"You look good, Sport. You going to save any damsels in distress?" The banter came easily, and Sam found himself enjoying talking to his son more than he thought he would have when he first walked in the room.

"Of course, I'll save everyone!" he exclaimed excitedly.

A minute of silence passed between them, Sam content to watch his son play, and Johnny happy with his father's attention. "Are you taking me trick-or-treating tonight, daddy?" Johnny asked, filling the silence.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, buddy." Sam told him softly, emotion clogging his throat at the complete faith that lined his son's young face. "So why don't you go get something to eat, while I get ready for work, I'm sure your mom would love some help in the kitchen," Sam said after watching his son play with the cars for a few minutes.

"Okay," the answer was simple and trusting, and it made Sam's heart clench for the umpteenth time since waking up in this new world. There were so many things in this world that just made him want to smile. Everything was perfect.

_I have a house, _he thought looking around.

_I have a wife, _he thought in awe, fingering the fine gold band that circled his ring finger.

_I have a son, _he looked over to the little boy picking up the toy cars and putting them into a tote before he stood up and looked at Sam. He smiled and ran from the room.

Running a hand through the soft blond hair as Johnny ran past, Sam sighed, and dragged the same hand through his own hair, harshly. _How was he ever going to let go of this place?_

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A/N: So let me know what you think, either good or bad.

Take care and review often.

DS


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! So I know its been a while and I'm gonna tell you all the same thing I said to Faye, (who is still graciously beta'ing this story) with graduations and mother's day, I got distracted, and then on mother's day, when I was going to send this chapter to Faye, I burned up my hand good enough to go to the ER... So with me typing a little awkwardly, it took longer than I planned to get this chapter out.

Sorry, and I know my excuse is little consolation, but I still hope you enjoy this chapter.

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_This innocence is brilliance, I hope that it will stay  
This moment is perfect, please don't go away, I need you now  
And I'll hold on to it, don't you let it pass you by_

It's the state of bliss you think you're dreaming  
It's the happiness inside that you're feeling  
It's so beautiful it makes you wanna cry  


Sam had followed his young son from his room to the kitchen, trailing after the boy, and watching him carefully as he moved, studying each subtle movement and committing them to memory.

Now as he stood watching Jess and Johnny from the kitchen doorway, Sam sighed. He had wished for this life, had fought and risked everything for this little slice of normal, and yet now when he could finally grasp it, doubt clouded his thoughts.

It was off, it was wrong, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

It was perfect, everything in its place, nothing wrong. It was too good to be true.

_Gotta talk to Dean.  
_

His brother had always been there to put things in perspective, or to help Sam figure out what he was going to do about things, in his own weird "Dean" way. Sam just hoped Dean could help him with what he was feeling now.

He didn't know exactly what he would tell his brother, or even exactly where he was, but he was sure just the presence of his big brother would go a long way in helping him to figure things out.

Sam could remember times at Stanford when he would call Dean late at night, not really daring to hope he could talk to his brother, but needing to hear his voice. Even if all he got was voicemail. The simple, "_Hey this is Dean, leave me a message."_ had always been enough to calm him, to steady his frayed nerves.

Pulling from his thoughts, he again looked at his son and wife, and wondered what would happen if he would ever have to leave them.

Only hours ago, he would have been happy on a simple road trip with Dean, but now that he had this life - the perfect serenity and peacefulness this dream life entailed - he wasn't sure if he could ever deal with the reality that came after waking up.

Still, as he watched his "family", Sam couldn't shake the feeling of awkwardness that seemed to flood through him. There was something niggling at the back of his mind, telling him that everything about this place was too perfect to be true. He couldn't shake that something was wrong, that he wasn't supposed to be here.

Scrubbing his face and raking a hand through his hair, Sam groaned, careful not to disturb the two people standing before him. It was a lot more difficult to think things through in the world of his dreams, and Sam was finding that out the hard way.

Turning around, Sam walked slowly back to his and Jess' room and stood in the middle of the room for a moment before wandering over to the dresser and gathering clothes he would need for the day. Deciding on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt along with a worn blue hooded sweatshirt, Sam made his way to the bathroom and set the clothes down on the sink before turning around and starting the shower.

Stripping and stepping under the spray, Sam couldn't help but think of Dean. He had so much to say to his brother, so many questions to ask him, and yet some of his thoughts and questions were faded and hard to remember.

Massaging shampoo through his hair, Sam leant his head back under the spray and sighed. He had already made his decision not to go to work, deciding he had more important things to do other than look over some case. He didn't know what he would tell Jess when he walked into the kitchen in jeans and not a suit, but figured with all the lying he had already done, one more wouldn't hurt anything but his own conscience.

Now all he had to do was decide where he was going, and exactly how he was going to manage talking to not only his mother, but a very different Dean than he was used to.

Turning around Sam grabbed the bar of pale green soap from lip of the tub and roughly scrubbed it up and down his body, willing his thoughts to leave him alone. The stress of everything that had happened between the hunt that morning, and all the surprises of the new world he now resided in was catching up to him, and he felt the telltale pounding between his temples as a migraine started to make its presence known.

Rubbing his forehead, Sam bent and switched the water off, before stepping out of the shower and snagging a towel hanging from the rack beside the door. As he dried himself and tried to avoid thoughts of what had and was happening, Sam could feel the pounding growing in strength, and knew that if he didn't do something, he was going to be laid up with the pain in his head.

As he was snapping the button on his jeans, a pounding shook the door and Sam jerked his head toward the pristine white surface, half expecting Dean to yell at him to leave him some hot water. The voice that came through the door was definitely not Dean's and was distinctly feminine.

"What are you doing in there, Sam? You're going to be late!" The annoyed undertone in Jess' voice wasn't lost on Sam and through the pain that streaked through his head, he smiled.

He walked the few steps to the door and making sure his face was set in the best sick expression he had, Sam twisted the knob and pulled the door open. Jess had her hand raised, and her mouth open, ready to berate him again, when she saw the look on his face.

"What wrong?" she asked softly as he expression morphed into one of concern.

"Do we have any headache medication left?" Sam asked, his voice a pathetic whimper that had always gotten to Jess, and one that had gotten him out of trouble many times.

She reached up to feel his forehead and frowned. "You're really pale, honey, migraine?" she asked softly. Sam felt his guilt rise as she smoothed a hand over his jaw, and thoughts of the lies he had told her, pushed their way to the surface. His head spiked as the pain worsened and he winced, telling her all she needed to know.

"I think you still have some of the prescription Dr. Bryant prescribed for you. Why don't you go lay down on the couch and I'll get you the pills and some water."

Sam nodded, winced, and whispered "okay" before turning towards where he had seen the living room.

"Sam, honey, do you need me to call work and tell them you won't be in today?"

Sam would have jumped for joy, had his head not been pounding, and for the fact it would have looked suspicious, before he turned back to her. "Yeah, if you have time." His response was no more than a whisper and he could tell she had bought it when he saw her eyes soften even more before she nodded and turned towards the kitchen.

Once again, Sam turned and headed for the living room, having to stop more than once to lean against the wall for support as the pain drove at him. He was starting to rethink going to see anyone as he finally lowered himself down onto the couch.

As he lay on the leather cushions, Sam couldn't help but wonder, why if this was his dream world, he was still having migraines. Wasn't the point of a dream world, having what someone wished for? Sam didn't know, but he couldn't think of ever wishing for a migraine, he could only remember the times he wished they had gone away.

He sighed and looked at the TV, looking for the remote to shut off the too bright and loud set. Pain flared through him, and his vision flashed, leaving him gasping, as he rolled off the couch and onto his knees.

His vision flashed again and the pain worsened, as black molded his vision and images blurred. In a moment of brief clarity, Sam saw himself. He was hanging by his arms, his body limp and pliant in a dirty abandoned warehouse. People were hung around him in a similar fashion, all of them in different stages of decay.

Once more his vision flashed and he found himself on all fours on the living room floor. He was nauseous and his head pounded. The pain flared again and he gasped, trying to quell his stomach, and remain conscious at the same time.

He vaguely heard Jess calling his name and Johnny screaming, but as his thoughts faded to black, all he could see was all those bodies -people- hanging in the warehouse, himself being one of them.

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A/N: So I hope you enjoyed, and please let me know what you thought. Reviews are awesome.

Take care,

DS


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys!!

So I got a new chapter written, and though I know it's taking me forever to get this done, I've started working on two other stories… I promise to finish this first though, before I really get myself invested into the other two.

Thanks again to Faye, my wonderful beta…

Enjoy the new chapter.

XXXXXX

'_It's the state of bliss you think you're dreaming  
It's the happiness inside that you're feeling  
It's so beautiful it makes you wanna cry _'

It's so beautiful it makes you want to cry

XXXX  
Dean Winchester was not a happy little hunter.

He had been pacing the small confines of the motel room he had been sharing with his brother, for the past two hours. The only times he had taken a break from his angry stomping back and forth across the abused carpet, had been to call Sam, who had yet to answer his phone.

He had left his brother six messages already. A few of them had been concerned and filled with nervous jokes, and the others had been angry with vicious remarks about Sam's disappearing acts.

Dean Winchester was sick of waiting for his absent brother, had been sick of it since so-called "little" brother had left for college, leaving he and his father alone.

He had tried to remember all the facts he and Sam had gathered about the hunt, trying to think of anything that might tell him where his little brother was, but nothing seemed to stand out in his thoughts.

Besides Sam was probably just being Sam. Checking over every detail at least twice, or trying to help every damsel in distress he could - including the mother duck trying to lead her little ones across the road.

There were only four warehouses in the small town they had stopped in, and another two in the flat country land around the town. Sam could be in any of them, and if the feeling in the pit of Dean's stomach told him anything, he knew Sam needed him, leading him to doubt his earlier calmness.

So being the great big brother he was, Dean was stopping his relentless pacing, and packing his duffle with the weapons he had cleaned in the first hour after his brother had called him to tell him he was checking out the warehouse.  
_  
Alone.  
_  
The thought scared Dean more than he would have thought possible. Sam was _his._ He was his little brother, and his responsibility. Had been ever since he had carried an infant Sam from the flames that their only real home.

Now he had been gone for over three hours, and wasn't answering his phone. The two simple facts set Dean's nerves on edge, and had him grinding his teeth in frustration. No matter his anger at Dean or the PMS level he was currently occupying, Sam would never leave Dean to worry, it just wasn't in Sam's emo ways.

As he walked out the door, going over the plans of the search for his brother, Dean couldn't help but wonder if Sam was alright. He again went back to the fact that he knew Sam wouldn't leave him hanging like this, and though he didn't doubt Sam's hunting abilities in the slightest, this kind of thing wasn't something to be handled alone.

He knew the man had hunted while away at college, but those were simple things; a shape shifter, a werewolf, a witch; none of which could reach into your head and pull out your deepest desires, and make you believe they were actually coming true, while in reality you were drained of your blood.

Sure Sam's performance after Stanford should have reassured him that his brother could take care of himself, but he also knew that Sam had a certain air of proficiency and caring for other people… _And he wouldn't leave Dean hanging._

The thought berated him even as he sidled up next to an old Ford and used his hunting knife to open the lock. As he knelt down to hot wire the truck, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself ruefully.  
_  
The things I do for you Sammy.  
_  
XXXX

'_Beep.'_

'Beep.'  
  
The high-pitched sound of the monitor next to him speared itself into Sam's consciousness. The scratchiness of the sheets, and the incline of the bed told him that it was a hospital, the familiar ness of everything from having had so many trips to the sterile rooms while growing up making the knowledge stick out in his mind. He couldn't remember what had happened to him to warrant a trip to what had to have been a hospital.  
_  
'Beep.'_  
_  
Uhn._ It was really starting to annoy him. He closed his eyes tighter, feeling the lids bunch against his cheeks as the steady sound woke the headache he had forgotten until that point. As he noticed the pain, he also noticed the feeling of the bunched cotton filling his right nostril.

Cracking his eyes open, he found himself staring into the dimly lit confines of a small hospital issue room, just as he thought. Looking around, something felt off, and he noticed no one was with him. For as far back as he could remember someone had always been with him when he woke up in the hospital.

His father, Jess, _Dean._ The thought of Dean brought back the flood of images of the vision he had before passing out. _This world wasn't real._ The thought hit him like a right hook, and Sam scrambled to remember exactly what had brought him here in the first place.  
_  
Researching in the library._

Calling Dean.

The warehouse.

The Djinn.

Jess.  
  
Everything about the world he was in, right down to the rough sheets of the hospital bed he now lie on, was fake. He and Dean had been hunting the Djinn when the genie had put him in this world, where Jess and his mom were alive, and he had a little boy…  
_  
And everything just felt wrong.  
_  
He realized now the off feeling he had felt since waking that morning in the room with Jess, was the fact that everything was too perfect. Jess was dead, his mother was dead. He had left Stanford before becoming a lawyer, and had been on a "road" trip for the past year and a half with Dean.

Everything revolved in his mind, swirling around to the point of making him nauseous, and it was all Sam could do to hold the bile down. Now that he knew the world was fake, the thoughts of everything that it held made him sick.

This wasn't the world he was supposed to have, and it wasn't the one he had held for the past twenty-three years. Even though he should and supposed that he could want everything the world held, he couldn't bring himself to think that every good thing he, his brother, and his father had ever done, had never happened. That all those people they had helped, all those things they had killed or exorcized, had never been taken care of.

Hearing the distinct snick of the door being open, Sam looked up, squinting as bright light flooded in, and irritated his already throbbing head, to find a man in a white coat standing there. As the doctor smiled at him and closed the door, Sam felt the queasiness in his stomach build.

"Hi Sam, my name is Dr. Clark, and I've been you're attending physician since your wife brought you in earlier." The smile was almost sickeningly nice, and Sam fought the urge to gag, mentally laughing at the fact that it was something Dean would have done.

"What happened?" Sam asked, surprised at the hoarseness of his voice and the scratchiness in his throat. His voice was nasally as the cotton in his nose once again made itself known, and Sam frowned, reaching an IV laden hand to touch the side of his nose in confusion.

The rough cotton stuffed there felt so thick, so heavy, so _real_; and yet he knew it wasn't.

"You passed out, from what we can only figure as a bad migraine. You've been unconscious for the better part of six hours, and somewhere around the middle of the fourth, your nose started bleeding." The man walked closer, and Sam's frown deepened as he wondered what was happening to him.

"We were concerned about brain damage, what with the headache, losing consciousness, and the nosebleed, to tell you the truth. Right now, I want you to just try and relax, and we'll let your wife and brother come back in. We'll take you for an MRI and CT in a little while, but they can stay until then."

Sam nodded, not really paying attention to man before him.

Everything was so confusing, but the one thing that remained constant and calming was his brother. His brother was the thing in his life that drove him- the only thing that really mattered, and the older man was there.

Distantly he heard the doctor asking him questions, and he blithely wondered if he answered them. From the concerned looks the man was giving him, he guessed that he wasn't; but that wasn't important to him at the moment.

_Dean was there.  
_  
Somehow the thought made him calm down. It soothed him, probably more than his older brother would ever know, and it left him able to think of a plan to take down the djinn and get back to his real life.

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A/n: So what did you think… I've got a couple ideas on where to go from here, and Faye had a really good idea, so I guess you'll just have to read on to find out where I decide to lead this.

Take care and review often,

DS


	5. Chapter 5

Hey guys… So it's been a while huh? I just got busy with everything in Real life, and kinda lost track of this fic… Sorry!!

Then I finally sent this chapter to Faye (who once again did a wonderful job beta'ing) and I got sick… I spent a little too much time in the sun and it made me really sick- something I could write about with Sammy, I'm sure- but I just wanted you all to know that I didn't forget this fic or yah'all, and it will be finished, I Promise!

So onto chapter 5:

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"**We are weighed down, every moment, by the conception and the sensation of time. And there are but two means of escaping and forgetting this nightmare: pleasure and work. Pleasure consumes us. Work strengthens us. Let us choose.**"  
- _Charles Baudelaire  
_XXXXX  
The more Sam thought about Dean, the more he started to worry. He didn't know what his brother would be like in this world, and if he thought about it, he had always wanted his brother to be "normal" and he didn't know what that would entail in the way he would act.

A mental image of his brother with a child on his hip and a woman by his side made Sam shiver. He didn't know if he could actually deal with how a "normal" Dean would be.

With the thought of Dean thinking he was crazy; or worse, Sam made his decision. He had to leave before either of those things happened, and he had to get back to his world and _his_ Dean.

Dean had always been his rock, his _home_, even with all his attitude and bad manners… It was just something Sam had come to rely on, something he knew. Having Dean not be _Dean_ just wasn't an option.

With these thoughts in mind, Sam carefully slid his legs from the bed and to the floor, gripping the metal handles of the bed when the room spun dizzily around him. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to steady himself. Opening his eyes, he scanned the room, and found the clothes he had been wearing before his trip to the hospital, sitting on an uncomfortable looking chair in the corner of the room.

Slowly and unsteadily, he made his way over to the chair and gripped the handle. Reaching down he grabbed his jeans and, had to tighten his grip on the handle of the chair to keep himself from toppling. A rueful smile tugged at his lips as he thought about his tall frame crumpled over a chair when his brother and Jess entered the room.

Just as soon as the thought had come, it vanished, leaving him filled with a steely resolve in a less than cooperative body. As he took off the hospital gown, his unsteady body trembled, and his death grip on the handle increased to white knuckle.

It didn't make sense to him that his body was so weak, when all he had been brought in for was a migraine and loss of consciousness. He didn't understand why every movement he made came with a weariness that seemed to sweep through and blanket his whole being.

Vaguely he wondered if the feeling of weakness was a part of the effects of the Djinn, but he pushed the thought away, and made himself focus on the task at hand: getting dressed.

With the heavy pull of exhaustion, everything seemed to be harder to do, and pulling on his jeans and buttoning his shirt left him drained. If he had the time, Sam would have sagged into the chair that seemed to be placed conveniently in front of him, but the thought of the Djinn screwing with his head, and leaving Dean alone in the real world, kept him moving.

As he stood from pulling on his shoes, a wave of dizziness rushed him, and took his breath, leaving him leaning against the stark white walls for support. He used the wall to anchor him as he made his way to the door, and after checking the halls for anyone who might recognize him, he unsteadily let his grip from the wall drop, and stepped into the hall, heading for the elevator twenty feet from his room.

As he cautiously made his way to the elevator, twenty feet seemed to multiply to twenty yards, and he had to use all his strength to keep going. He knew that even _if_ he made it out of the hospital unnoticed, he wouldn't be up to doing much in the way of figuring out just how to get out of this world.

As he pushed the button for the lift, he decided that he would find a safe place to rest for a while before figuring out how to get back to Dean. He knew his brother must have been going crazy as time stretched on, and Sam showed no signs of coming back. Dean had probably already headed out to look for him, and though the thought warmed him, he hoped that Dean would be careful… That his brother wouldn't do anything irrational or stupid.

Snorting to himself Sam _knew_ that Dean _would _do something irrational _and_ stupid- a part of why he loved _his_ Dean- and he groaned as he stepped through the automatic doors of the elevator.

An ache settled in his chest as he pressed the button for the ground floor. This life he was leaving, was _everything_ he had always wished for, everything he had strived for while in Stanford. _For his whole life._ Now as he walked away from it, he couldn't help but feel a sort of loss, a sadness that he had felt after Jess had died.

XXXXX

By the time Dean pulled the truck to the side of the road, a good distance from the first warehouse, the vein in his forehead was twitching, and annoyance was gnawing at him.  
_  
What kind of truck plays pop and country on all stations?_ Dean wondered as he stepped from the truck and slammed the door a little harder than normal people would deem necessary. __

Sam better appreciate what I'm _going through looking for him.  
_  
As Dean neared the door of decrepit building, his movements became more cautious and calculated, not wanting to get himself into trouble thinking himself smarter than the creature that had to have his brother.

He flattened himself to the outside of the building and edged toward the door, his eyes sweeping the area around him, not wanting to be taken by surprise. It had been one of the first lessons his father had drilled into his brain; _Take in everything, even the smallest distraction can mean the difference between life and death, walking away and injury.  
John Winchester had been nothing if not an excellent hunter.  
_  
As he inched his way closer to the entrance, Dean idly wondered if he should have called Bobby in for backup on this hunt; after all, if the thing had gotten the drop on Sam it had to have smart. No matter how much Dean made fun of his younger brother, Sam was a damn good hunter, and most of the things the brothers hunted didn't have a chance against the younger hunter.

Holding his blood coated knife in front of himself, Dean grabbed the door latch, and slowly lifted it. He winced as the slight creak of the old latch, but forced himself to push his doubts aside, and pushed the rusted door inward carefully.

As he swept his gaze around the inside of the building, Dean quietly pushed the door shut behind him, not wanting any unwanted visitors coming at him from behind. His ears and eyes alert, Dean took in everything around him, and crept further into the old building.

He checked rooms as he went, prudently observing everything. As he neared the other side of the building, a whiff of smell made his nose scrunch. It was rotten and horrible, almost like something had died and been left there for a long time.

His eyes watering, Dean felt something not right in his gut but forced himself to push forward, almost certain that he had found Sam and the creature that had him. The closer he got to the end room, the worse the smell got, and the more certain Dean was that his brother was there.

He looked back around himself as he reached the door, and carefully pushed the rusted metal inward. As he looked around the room, Dean felt horror threaten to overtake him. Bodies hung throughout the room in various stages of decay, from the nearly dead to the rotted flesh of old corpses.

He pushed further into the room and as his gaze fell on one victim, his breath caught. The man was tall, his limp dark hair falling haphazardly over his ashen face.  
_Sammy._

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A/N: So what did you think?? Reviews always make an author feel better!! -Wink Wink-

Take care,

DS


	6. Chapter 6

So hey guys… I know it's been a while, but things have been going downhill lately, with work, the doctors, the dentist; and now my grandmother dying, I just haven't really been able to get chapters done like I would want to.

But here's chapter 6, and I hope you enjoy…

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His hands shook as Sam walked into the Supernatural studies building of the University. He had been scouring the local library for anything and everything on Djinns and how they could be killed.

So far he had found… _absolutely nothing._

His last chance was the University, since there wasn't an information filled journal in this world, telling him what he needed to know in order to get back to his world and take care of the monster that had put him in this place to begin with.

His decision to leave this world wavered with that last fact. No journal meant no hunting. No hunting meant that his mother and Jess hadn't died. Jess and his mother not dying meant that his life and the lives of everyone around him had been normal and without the hate and fear of the world he had grown up in.

His lips twisted down and pain throbbed between his brows as he thought about everything that had happened in both worlds. The juxtaposition of it all was too much for his mind to handle at one time.

Sighing, Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. The pain in his head was a constant trill, leaving him weary, and making him wonder just what he had gotten himself into in the first place. Even now he wondered what would have happened if he had just waited, or if he had picked Dean up before going into the warehouse.

The whole other world deal could have been avoided and another monster would have been added to his ''killed' list. He could have been sitting on an uncomfortably lumpy bed in a rundown motel, searching the internet for new jobs. Dean would be sitting on the next bed making fun of him and his 'geeky' ways.

But he could have also gone into the warehouse with Dean and both of them could have been surprised by the Djinn. That would leave both he and Dean helpless with no way of rescue. Dean would have been in the same predicament as Sam was, and no matter what, that wasn't something Sam wished on his older brother.

Sam walked into the edge of a mahogany table, effectively drawing him from his thoughts. He drew in a sharp breath as pain spiked in his hip, and cursed the table to hell and back, Dean style.

Relieved for the respite from his thoughts, he also thanked his stupidity for taking him out of his melancholy thoughts. He unconsciously rubbed his hip and walked out around the table, heading for the office at the end of the hall, hoping the Supernatural studies professor would be able to help him with his current predicament.

XXXXX

The whole trip to the professor's office had only provided Sam with two additional bits of information on Djinns. The monsters weren't really genies and their wishes usually left the victim dead or dying. The only way to kill the Djinn was to stab it with a lamb's blood coated knife.

_Bingo._

While the rest of the information the professor had drabbled on about had been useless and mindless drivel, that last bit of information had been what he had been looking for, and just what he needed.

Now all he had to do was avoid his "family" and find a farm with easy access to lambs. It shouldn't be a hard thing to do, with the Kansas countryside in easy reach, and farms scattered all through the plains.

He had already procured a knife, grabbing one from his and Jess' house before quietly slipping back out, and 'finding' a car to get back to the warehouse he had met the Djinn.

As he pulled the beat up old Dodge o the side of the road, scouting a flock of sheep in the dark of the night, Sam thought to what Dean had always said whenever he had to do something he didn't like in order to finish a hunt. '_We do what we do for the good of the world, it takes sacrifices, but in the end it's for the good.'_

So as he quietly slit the throat of a good sized lamb, and waited for the blood to pour into his waiting jar, Sam repeated the phrase to himself, hoping that he really was helping.

As he trudged back to the car, he never saw the dark shape moving towards him, he only felt strong leather clad arms wrap around his neck and cut off his oxygen. He gasped and reflexively dropped the jar, bringing his own hands up to claw at the ones wrapped around his throat.

The arms wouldn't budge and slowly his vision wavered and darkened around the edges. His body felt heavy, leaden, and his arms dropped back to his sides. He gasped once more for breath before the darkened edges of his vision closed in, and took him.

XXXXX

Dean's vision seemed to narrow, his focus set on one thing. Bodies hung all around him, each one pale or tinted blue, but none of them mattered because this was _Sam_, and Sam was more important than anything or _anyone_ else in the world.

He seemed to be drawn to Sam, hanging limp in the center of all the death and rot around him. His brother was pale, dark shadows marring the underside of his eyes, the lids almost translucent. His lips were drained of color and a lighter pink than Dean had ever seen them, matching the rest of his bloodless face.

Dean stumbled to Sam, his coordination shot seeing his brother hurt and unconscious the way he was. He reached a shaky hand to his brother's cheek, flinching when the skin he touched was cold and clammy.

"S-Sam?" _Was that his voice?_ It scared him how it shook and broke on his brother's name. Dean didn't show emotion easily, but seeing Sam as he was? Whenever Sam was hurt or in need, something came out in Dean that he didn't always know was there.

"Sammy?" He called again, stronger this time as he placed his free hand on Sam's shoulder and shook him, hoping for some kind of response. When there wasn't so much as an involuntary twitch from his brother, Dean called him again, shaking harder than he had before.

A small scuffle sounded in the corner of the room, and Dean's senses snapped to attention, his head turning almost of its own accord, his hand going on automatic to the gun tucked haphazardly in the back of his jeans.

An ugly, bald man stood hunched in the corner, his eyes almost bulging from their sockets, tattoos marring almost every piece of skin showing. His (_its_) teeth were bared at him, a silent growl obvious on the upturned lips.

Remembering at the last moment, the blood coated knife held loosely in the hand still on Sam's shoulder, Dean drew his hand in front of him and readied himself into a fighting stance.

_This _thing_ had hurt his Sammy, and he wasn't going to get away with it._

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So I know it was short, but tell me what you think anyway… I think there's only one or two more chapters left.

Take care,  
DS


	7. Chapter 7

Hey guys!!

I just wanted to thank you again for all the reviews you have left, and to all of you that read this story and like it but don't leave a review, thanks!

Thanks to Faye for taking time out of her _very_ busy schedule and helping me with beta'ing this…

Hope you enjoy.

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Dean Winchester couldn't believe what he had just seen Sam do.

Looking down at the limp form in his arms, Dean sighed and wondered just how his little brother had lost all forms of sanity.

Going AWOL at the hospital, hiding away, and now slaughtering a sheep and draining its blood into a jar? His brother had truly lost his mind.

Grunting to himself as he lifted his brother by his underarms, Dean started their trek to his car. That was another thing, hotwiring a car? Sam was a lawyer for god's sake. He was supposed to get people who broke the law punished, not break the law himself.

Leaning the lax form of his brother against the passenger side of the Impala, Dean opened the door with a loud creak. Bending down, he once again grabbed Sam under the arms, and lifted him, maneuvering the muscular body onto the bench seat.

Dean studied Sam, taking in the pinched lines around his mouth and the furrows in his brow that hadn't been there only days ago. He may not have known Sam as well as he could have, but he knew that his brother was- or at least _had been_- happy and healthy. The man in front of him wasn't the brother he knew, and he wasn't content to just let that fact slip past him.

He was going to find out just what was going on with his brother, and he was going to find out as soon as his brother woke up.

Sliding the door closed, Dean ground his teeth in frustration and walked around the car to slide into the driver's seat. _It was going to be a long night._

XXXX

The first thing Sam became aware of was the pain circling his throat. Groaning, he reached up to rub the soar area, and groaned again.

"Sammy?" The distinct voice of his older brother penetrated his awareness and Sam instinctively turned toward the voice and cracked his eyes open. Seeing the worried look on his older brother's face almost made him forget everything that had happened in the past couple of days. Almost but even as he rubbed his neck, the memories flooded through him.

_A leather clad arm__wrapped around his throat, cutting off his oxygen, and surrendering him to unconsciousness… _Dean.

"Did you just… choke me out?" Sam rasped, his throat flaring to life at every word.

"Yeah, I did," Dean answered simply, glancing at Sam before looking back at the road, and taking a deep breath. "And ah- did you just drain a lamb of its blood, little brother?" Dean asked, clearing his throat and plaintively looking back at Sam.

Sam felt guilt fill him at that, and he closed his eyes. If there had been any other way to kill the Djinn, he never would have killed that animal.

He knew what Dean would think if he tried to explain that though. His brother never would have believed him, he probably would have him committed to the local ward. It seemed funny to him that Dean had been the one to explain their way of living in his world, and now he would have thought his little brother crazy for saying anything about it.

The fact that he knew the one person he had always trusted wouldn't believe him, _hurt_, and Sam closed his eyes, swallowing. Seeing this version of his brother, the one untouched by hunting, only made Sam want _his_ Dean back all the more.

"You wouldn't understand," he breathed, opening his eyes and averting them from the searching gaze his older brother threw at him.

Sam winced as the brakes screeched, as Dean slammed on them. Lifting his head from the seat where it had been resting since he woke, Sam looked at Dean, studying the features he had known so well all his life, and now seemed so different than he had ever known.

His brother's eyes had hardened and glinted with the glare of the moon off the Impala's gleaming hood. His jaw was set and hard, his nostrils flaring in frustration. The tension in his back and arms was visible and his knuckles had whitened on the steering wheel, even as he guided the car to the side of the road.

As the Impala came to a stop, Dean reached to turn the key in the ignition and dropped his hands to his lap, but otherwise made no move. Sam watched him for a moment, seeing the thoughts fleeting through his eyes, and his Adams apple bouncing with every hard swallow.

"Dean?" he ventured, and knew talking was the wrong decision when his brother turned to him slowly and glared.

He had been afraid the whole time he had been in this other world that Dean would hate him, or that his brother wouldn't be there for him if he needed it. _This _Dean was exactly what he had been afraid of. The glare that had only ever been reserved for people who had hurt their family, or demons, was now being directed at him and Sam didn't know if he could deal with that.

"_I wouldn't understand?_" The anger in his tone was evident and Sam unconsciously pushed himself farther into the seat. "You're damn right I don't understand, Sam! You're breaking the law, running away, hiding… What the hell is going on with you?" Dean's voice heightened with almost every word, and Sam felt each one like a physical blow.

The anger in Dean's voice was beyond enough reason to make Sam want to skedaddle from this world as soon as he could. Dean could be angry with him and could even hold a grudge, but the anger held in this Dean's eyes was too much. He needed his brother, he needed Dean, _his_ Dean.

And Dean wasn't there… at least not the right Dean.

"Yes, Dean, you wouldn't understand," Sam answered him quietly. "If I told you exactly what was going on with me, and just what was happening in your perfect little world, you wouldn't believe me. You would think I was crazy, someone who needed to be locked up." Sam's voice was stronger than before, stronger with each word, as he talked. His brother's face turned from anger to incredulity, and then to wariness.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked him, all the emotions evident on his face blended into his tone. Sam had to consciously hold back a wince at that tone, and felt his determination to get back to the real world, _his_ world, strengthen in its intensity.

"It means, Dean, that for all your open-mindedness, and for all that you think you know everything, you _don't._" The blank look that found its way to his brother's face and the way he cocked his head in confusion on served to prove his point and Sam had to wonder just how much this world had taken away from Dean. Even if he wasn't book smart in Sam's world, Dean always been a sort of genius in the street smart department.

"Whatever," Sam said after a minute, turning away from Dean, "I still have to get to that warehouse, and finish what I started. So if you don't mind I'm going to get back to my car and-" before he could finish, Dean cut him off, a similar look of protectiveness to his own Dean's, lining his face.

"Whoa-ho! No way in hell are you going there alone." Sam didn't know what to think as Dean turned the ignition and spun the car around, heading back to where they had come from. "I'm still your big brother and whatever is going on with you and whatever you have to do, you're not doing it alone." A smug grin quirked Dean's lips and he glanced at Sam, "Got that, Sammy-boy?"

The remark was so much like his Dean that Sam smiled.

XXXXX

The creature charged at him, but Dean stood his ground, not about to move out of his protective position in front of his brother. The Djinn had already gotten to Sammy, strung him up and pushed him into an alter-world, all the while draining him of his blood.

Dean wasn't about to let the thing get near Sam again.

As the Djinn neared him, Dean lashed out with the knife, praying that his aim was true. The monster dodged his attack, easily sliding out of the way of the slash and gripping his hand tightly around Dean's throat.

The next thing Dean knew, he was vaulted through the air, coming to land against thee bottom of an old wooden staircase. The breath left his lungs and Dean lost his grip on the knife, gasping as he watched it slide away from him.

Within seconds, the Djinn was back on him, pinning Dean to the stairs, his legs pinning Dean's torso, and his left hand gripping Dean's throat. Dean grabbed the hand strangling him, and his other shot up to stop the creature's other hand from splaying itself against his head.

As he struggled with the hand forcing itself closer to his head, Dean forced himself to let go of the appendage gripping his throat and blindly reached for the knife that had been driven from his hand.

He kept fumbling for the knife, keeping one eye on the Djinn and the other looking for the knife, vain hopes of grasping the sharp weapon and impaling the monster on it, running through his mind.

In a last second ditch effort, Dean decided that if he wasn't going to win fighting fairly. He'd have to play a little dirty pool. Bringing the hand searching for the knife underneath him, Dean used it as leverage to push his body up and jam his knee in between the Djinn's legs.

In an almost comical effort the monster looked at him with an expression caught between puzzlement and pain and pulled itself free. It fell to a heap on the floor in front of him and between gasping breaths and fumbling for the knife, Dean had to grin. He hadn't known it would work, but he was happy to find out that being nailed in the jewels didn't just work on humans.

Using the Djinn's lack of attention to his advantage, Dean scrambled over to it and unceremoniously stabbed the knife through the thing's back, where a human's spinal cord would be. Its scream of pain and anger was enough to make Dean wince, and ready himself for another attack should it bee needed, but the creature only collapsed to the ground and writhed weakly for a moment before falling still and failing to move again.

With the threat lying dead before him, Dean's attention reverted back to his brother. Sam hadn't moved at all, still hanging pale and limp in binds that stood out starkly against his white skin.

Struggling to his feet with one hand held to his tender throat, the other holding the Djinn and lamb blood coated knife loosely; Dean stumbled over to Sam. Dropping the knife as he reached his brother, Dean reached up and gently pulled the catheter from Sam's neck, the sight of it making his stomach turn.

Next he reached up to undo the ropes, fumbling with them and getting frustrated enough to reach down and pick up his discarded knife, content to cut them away instead. The edges of the rope frayed and then broke, leaving Dean to quickly brace himself to hold Sam's limp weight up.

He gently lowered the lax form to the floor and ran his hand over his brother's pale face, before scrubbing a harsh one over his own. All he had to do now was figure out a way to wake his brother.

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A/N: So I hope you all liked… There should be only one or two chapters left.

Take care,

DS


	8. Chapter 8

Hey guys!! So it's been a while, huh?? _Looks out her dorm room peephole_. Doesn't look like you guys are too happy with me huh?

Sorry it took so long to get this last chapter up. With college and work, then being sick for the last week and bombing a big test, real life has been keeping me kind of busy.

But today, considering it's Thursday and there's a new episode tonight, I made myself sit down and write this chapter from beginning until end.

I also wanted to thank all of you that read and reviewed this story, it always makes me happy to find a review waiting for me.

So happy reading. (And after this I figure all stories with be done and edited before posting… so it's not so unfair for you guys.)

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Dean watched over Sam, trying to think back to all the lore he had read on Djinns and their victims. He couldn't think of any way to wake his brother, and the longer Sam was under, the more worried Dean got.

His brother was lax and unresponsive, his breathing shallow and his heart beating too fast. In a last ditch plan, Dean pulled out his phone and dialed Bobby's number, hoping that maybe the older hunter would know something he didn't about Djinns.

Keeping his attention steadied on his brother, Dean held the phone to his ear and waited for Bobby to pick up. Seeing a little spot of blood bubbled on Sam's neck, Dean reached out and wiped it away, not liking the brilliant red against Sam's pale skin.

Bobby answered the phone on the fourth ring with a gruffly spoken, "Yeah?"

"Bobby it's Dean," Dean spoke fast, a tinge of fear ringing in his tone. "Listen, I need to know anything you know about Djinns and their victims, how do you wake them up?" If he was being rude, Dean didn't register it, his only concern lingering on Sam.

"Dean what's goin' on?" Dean could hear the concern in the older man's voice and knew he could hear the fear in Dean's own.

"One of them got Sammy, Bobby, and I don't know how to wake him up. I killed the thing, but Sam's still lying here, dead to the world." _At least the real world_. He took a deep breath and added a broken, "I don't know what to do."

Dean heard the sharp intake of breath through the receiver, and the muttered curse about idgits that followed. He could almost feel the man's worry and frustration through the phone.

"All I know is that Sam has to get himself out of the wish himself. He has to be willing to leave and come back to real world on his own." The silence that followed Bobby's statement seemed to stretch, and Dean refocused his attention on Sam's lax face, mentally willing his brother to fight back against the Djinn and open his eyes.

__

C'mon little brother, come back.

XXXXX

As Sam watched through the passenger side window, the scenery around him became familiar, and Sam unconsciously clenched the lamb blood coated knife harder.

When Dean threw him a questioning look, Sam only nodded that this was the right place and gripped the knife tighter.

Even as Dean pulled up to the warehouse and glided the Impala to a stop, Sam said nothing, just quietly undid his seatbelt and opened the door. As he stood, he could see Dean following his example and moments later they were at the entrance Sam had crept in days before.

As Sam crept down the familiar halls of the warehouse, the sense of unease and wrongness filled him once again. He could almost feel the evil and unnaturalness wafting off the Djinn that had trapped him in this world, and yet there seemed to be no trace of the creature in the building at all.

The looks Dean was giving him, burned into his back, searing concern and disbelief into his soul. He knew this Dean wasn't his, but it didn't stop the dull ache that settled in his chest from every look the older man threw at him when he thought Sam couldn't see it.

Dean; _his Dean_; had never been as distrustful of him as the one in this world seemed to be, and Sam didn't know if he could just take that fact in stride and keep going long enough to get him out of this world and back to his brother. It hurt to know that in his dream world his protector watched him with all the finesse of a night watchman at an asylum.

Dean had always been an ass but he had been a caring ass and he had never looked at Sam like he was mentally unstable. Like at any moment he expected a breakdown complete with rocking and screaming in the corner.

For all Sam's bitching and brooding, he couldn't wait to actually have Dean tease him about his hair, or his frou frou food. He couldn't wait for Dean to look at him call him a bitch and get on with life.

He couldn't wait to be rid of the suspicion and this world in general.

Drawing from his thoughts, Sam refocused on the task at hand and slid along walls toward the room where he had first seen the Djinn. Dean followed him, ready to have his back despite the suspicion and for that small fact Sam was grateful he was there with him.

A flash of movement had him backing behind a flight of rotten stairs, a clenched hand wound in the fabric of his brother's shirt, pulling the older man with him. Dean's startled yelp was muffled behind Sam's large hand, his hunter instincts flaring to life on high alert.

Through narrowed eyes, Sam watched a bald man (_thing?)_ covered in tattoos saunter by him, his back hunched and a sinister grin marring his already ugly features. With growing dread, thoughts of the attack faltered him and he closed his eyes with a groan.

He could feel Dean's hand gripping his shoulder even as he opened his eyes to a look of worry, and it was all so familiar, Sam ached. Even in the real world when Dean was pissed at him, he would do anything for him, and seeing shades of that Dean in this one, physically hurt.

Shaking his head at his brother's concern, Sam pulled from the comforting hand and made his way after the Djinn, Dean following him closely. As he walked quietly into the room of his first meeting with the Djinn, Sam felt Dean tense and pull away.

"Sam I don't think this is a good idea." He heard Dean whisper from behind him. Sam turned and saw Dean's face swirl with indecision and fear. "Maybe we should just go home and forget this ever happened."

Sam stood for a minute, studying his brother before simply saying, "I don't think you or this _world_ are real." Dean's expression took on one of incredulity.

He walked over to Sam and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. "You feel that? I'm real! And that thing is going to come down and kill us for real!" He was breathing hard, and he gripped Sam's shoulder all the tighter, waiting for his brother to realize he was telling the truth.

"Well there's only one way to be sure." Sam pulled the knife between them, it's sharp blade directed at Dean's stomach. The older man took a breath and stepped back putting his hands up between them.

"Whoa! Whoa… Whoa-whoa! What are you doing?" Dean asked, keeping his eyes on the knife.

"It's an old wives tale," Sam answered calmly. "If you're about to die in a dream, you wake up."

"No, no, no-no! That's crazy alright?" Dean's gaze flickered from the knife to Sam's face then back again.

"Maybe," Sam pursed his lips.

"You're gonna kill yourself- okay!" Dean said backing up, as Sam advanced on him with the knife outstretched.

"Or I'm gonna wake up," Sam growled back. Dean's hands were held up placating, his eyes still trained on the knife as Sam continued, "One or the other."

"Look," Dean said drawing his hands together in front of him, and stepping forward. "This isn't a dream, alright? I'm here with you, now and you are about to kill yourself Sam." Dean was scared the waver in his tone making it clear.

Sam's face was hard even as he swallowed. "No," he said, "I'm pretty sure." Dean's jaw dropped and Sam eyes slid down for a second before adding, "like ninety percent sure, but I'm sure enough." With that Sam turned the knife around towards his own stomach and gripped it with both hands, ready to shove it forward.

"Wait!" Dean yelled, his tone losing some of it's scared quality and hardening into almost an order.

A figure dressed in white stepped from the shadows, a smaller figure at its side. Sam turned seeing Jess and Johnny standing there, and he faltered. He heard footsteps and looked up to see his mother join the group next to Dean. He swallowed and tightened his grip on the knife even as Dean started to speak.

"Why'd you have to keep digging?" He asked, "Why couldn't you just have left well enough alone?" His eyes were saddened and glazed as he looked at Sam. "You were happy," he added after a breath.

His mother stepped in front of him and his stomach clenched. He had never met his mother, barring the meeting with her spirit in Kansas, and as she gazed up at him, he almost slipped. "Put the knife down honey," she said slowly, comfortingly.

He watched her for a moment before shaking his head, "You're not real." He lifted his gaze and looked at every person in the room, "None of it is."

"It doesn't matter," his mother said, drawing his attention back to her. "It's still better than anything you had."

He searched her face, swallowing. "What?" He asked.

"It's everything you want. You have the love of your life and a son. You have a family again." She smiled, looking up into his eyes, "Let's go home."

"But I'll die," he said, shaking his head. "The Djinn will drain the life out of me in a couple of days."

"But in here with us, it'll feel like years." She said, trying to get him to understand her logic. "Like a lifetime," she added softly. Sam's eyes lifted to meet his brother's and she lightly turned his face back to her. "I promise."

His eyes watered even as she continued, "No more hurt, no more fear, just love, comfort, and safety." She ran her hand higher up to caress his cheek. "Sam," she said dropping her hand to run it down the seem of his coat, "stay with us." She again ran her hand up and over his head through his shaggy hair and whispered, "get some rest."

"You don't have to worry about hunting anymore, or any plans the demon has for you. All you have to do is take care of your son and watch him lead a full life." Jess said, stepping forward with a smile.

"And I get to be an uncle," Dean added, also stepping forward. "Have a family of my own, maybe." He swallowed. "Why is it our job to save everyone? Haven't we done enough?" His eyes watered and he took a breath and another step, "I'm begging you, give me the knife."

Sam stepped back and took a breath of his own. "I'm sorry," he said simply, pursing his lips and drawing breath through his nose. His brow furrowed even as he looked down and stabbed the knife. Just as the tip touched his stomach, the world jumped, and slid away.

XXXX

Dean started as Sam stirred and groaned in his lap. "Sam?" He asked, incredulously.

Sam's eyes slowly rolled open and then up to face Dean. "D'n?" His voice was hoarse, and his eyes hazy, but Dean had never been happier to see his brother.

"Yeah, little brother, it's me." Sam smiled a little then groaned and tried to push himself up. "Take it easy there Sam, I thought I lost you," Dean said quietly, even as he helped Sam into a sitting position.

"You almost did," Sam whispered back. They sat there for a minute in silence, the sound of their breathing the only sound in the room. "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean asked, turning to face Sam.

"Can we get out of here? This place kind of gives me the creeps." Sam's embarrassment was clear with the red lining his otherwise pale cheeks.

"Yeah sure genie-boy, lets get you out of here." Dean stood and reached back down to pull Sam up.

"Genie-boy? Dean you're such a jerk." Sam groaned back, leaning his weight on his brother as they stumbled toward the entrance.

"Whatever, bitch." Dean shot back, the familiar nickname falling off his tongue with such ease that it made Sam smile.

END.

XXXXX

So what did you think?? Push the purple button and let me know either way.

Take care,

DS


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